


Those Curious American Cousins

by book_go



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Albus Dumbledore Bashing, American - Freeform, Family, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hogwarts Fifth Year, Ilvermorny, Secret Identity, Severus Snape Lives, Sirius Black Lives
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-26
Updated: 2020-03-10
Packaged: 2020-09-27 09:40:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20405611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/book_go/pseuds/book_go
Summary: On the summer before her fifth year, Hermione discovers that her American cousins are not as muggle as she thought. In the meantime, a certain Death Eater family starts having regrets.This story will focus a lot on the efforts that Hermione's cousins put into trying to keep her and her friends safe. I just always thought that if someone that the Trio cared about and understood the danger of the war without being enveloped in it came and smacked some sense into all of them, they'd realize that was going on was not something that normal teenagers had to deal with. Currently there are no romantic relationships, but I do plan on bringing some in.





	1. Chapter 1

Hermione had always been jealous of her American cousins. Abigail and Mark lived in New York with their mother, Rebecca, and their father, Hermione's uncle, Robert. While they both had brown hair and brown eyes, similar to her own, they wore them with confidence. Not the confidence that Hermione exhumed as she answered every question correctly, or lead a group in a project, or entered the library. Not the kind of confidence that depended on who Hermione was with or what place she was in.

No. Abigail's gait said that she didn't care if others didn't like her because she knew her worth. Her posture said that no matter how tired she was, no matter how long that flight and drive had been, she wouldn't dare slouch. Her warm and welcoming hugs, the little touches to Hermione's shoulder and face, her loving smiles and friendly girl advice didn't take away from her intimidating aura. Her brother, on the other hand, was the complete opposite. Rather than well mannered and perfectly poised, Mark liked to let people know when he was tired and to add his own funny remarks to any story that his sister was telling. He oozed confidence, his strut always relaxed and his manner always carefree. But his confidence didn't come from the knowledge that he was better. Rather, he let everyone at the dinner table know it came from the knowledge that his sister would "whoop anyone's ass for me, and I don't think anybody wants to see Abby's mean side. Trust me, I know." At that, Abby had ruffled his curly hair, the same as Hermione's, and Mark tried to attack her short waves without much luck. A memory of the siblings bickering when she was thirteen popped into her mind. Abby's years over her and Mark had always been the reason Hermione sought her guidance and Mark considered her his personal bodyguard, despite the amount of teasing he had to deal with.

Hermione had been glad that her cousins, uncle and aunt had come to visit soon after she finished school. What she needed was a distraction from Hogwarts, Voldemort, and especially Cedric's death. She knew it was all traumatizing for Harry, but thinking about all of it made Hermione's head spin and her heart ache. She hoped he could get in touch with the Weasleys, although the knew his uncle and aunt were not very happy with his ties to the magic world. A feeling of loneliness came over Hermione as she realized she couldn't share much of her life with her parents, especially if she didn't want them to know about the danger she was potentially in. The laughs around her brought her out of her thoughts and she tuned into the story Abby was telling.

"So I told Mark to hold eleven fingers up, and he starts panicking. He's looking at his hands, my hands, the book, and back at his hands. I swear, he was about to cry. Then, he starts yelling "Mom?! Mom, I only have ten fingers!" So, being still angry about having to help him and worried that Mom would come in and yell at me again, instead of apologizing, I snap at him and say: " Shut up and use your toes!"" Hermione joins in on the laughter, and slowly but surely, the pang of loneliness eased off her shoulders. She had faith in her cousins' abilities to keep her happy.

"Hermione, I heard you're going to a boarding school? How is that?" Aunt Rebecca turned to her. Thankfully, her mom answered for her.

"It's a school for gifted children, up in Scotland. They take children from all over the UK. We didn't really want to let her go so far away but she promised us that she would work hard to get the best grades. We made a deal that anything below "Exceeds Expectations" would get her a ticket straight back home." With that, Jean Granger began explaining the grading system to her sister in law. Abby and Mark turned to Hermione then.

"So how does our little genius like her school far away from nagging mothers?" Mark asked with a grin.

"It's not like that! I actually really miss my parents during the school term," she replied with a defensive smile. 

"I can relate, cuz. When I left for that semester in Hong Kong, I was homesick all year. It didn't help that I had a bad case of culture shock in the beginning. Thankfully, my teachers were understanding and helped me adjust. Still, those FaceTime calls were never enough." With that, Abby reached for her phone to find picture of her year in China. With a face splitting grin, Mark said: 

"Awwww, you missed me, sis!" To which Abby rolled her eyes and handed her phone to Hermione. A few moments later, she asked:

"How are your teachers at school, Hermione? You don't talk much about school. Do you have any guidance counselors that can help you adjust?" 

'Umm, I do. The school is split into four groups. The head of my group, Professor McGonagall, acts sort of as my counselor. Also, the Headmaster is very kind. I don't have much contact with him, but he is this mad genius and any time I bring up any crazy project he is always on board." She supposed it was true in a way. The Headmaster had never punished her or her friends for any of their adventures.

"And what's the name of this Headmaster?" She supposed one or two names wouldn't matter much since her family was muggle and would only get them off her case quicker. 

"Dumbledore." At that, Abby have Mark a look which he returned, and Aunt Rebecca stuttered as she talked to Jean. 

"Is by any chance his first name Albus?" Abby said. She and Mark were looking at her intensely, and Hermione didn't trust her voice. Instead, she looked back down at the phone in her hands and nodded. In front of her was a picture of Abby and a blonde girl on the Wall of China, both obviously tired but happy from their hike in the heat. She heard Abby inhale. 

"And, is the name of the school, by any chance, Hogwarts?" Hermione's head snapped up to see a small smirk on Abby's face. The adults around her had stopped their conversations, too and it was suddenly very quiet at the dinner table.

"HOGWASH!? My little cousin goes to Hogwash?!" Mark was the first to break his silence with his yells. "Mom, do something!"

"Now Mark, calm down." Aunt Rebecca gave her son a harsh look. 

"But mom! Our family's been going to Ilvermorny since we came off the ship! How can you let your baby niece go to Hogwash?" Abby must have seen the shocked look on Hermione's face because she slapped Mark upside the head and growled "Hogwarts, dumbass. And sit down, you’re scaring her." Mark donned a sheepish look and slowly lowered himself back into his chair. 

"What exactly just happened, John?" Uncle Rob asked his brother. 

"I think your kids figured out something about my daughter, Rob." Hermione looked around the table, still unable to comprehend what it all meant. All she could mutter was a weak "How?" 

Thankfully, Aunt Rebecca came to the rescue. "Well, sweetheart, I think that, being bound by the Oath of Secrecy, we have all been hiding something about ourselves. Perhaps, something about magic?" Hermione nodded, and a sense of relief washed over her when she and her family spent the next few hours telling their stories. 

As it turns out, Hermione's uncle had married an American witch. Rebecca came from a forgotten wizarding family, the Williams. Her family had immigrated to the colonies with the Puritans, hoping to escape the politics of Magical England and to avoid a Muggle witch hunt. Unfortunately, they had been discovered once they settled. Despite some of the family managing to escape before the mass hysteria got to them, a young Abigail, the namesake of the girl sitting across from Hermione, had remained behind with her lover. 

"They accused her of worshiping the devil and of enchanting the young man to love her. If only they knew how difficult love magic was, they would have never accused a young girl of it, sexist as they were. And I know there all these stories of witches who ask the devil for more powers but it's all an old wives tale. _And _highly illegal, both here and back home." Rebecca gave the three cousins a pointed glare. The family that had escaped Salem had sought refuge at Ilvermorny. Feeling indebted to the school, the adults had taken up teaching positions and sent their children to the school. Ilvermony became a family tradition then. Rebecca herself had gone to Ilvermorny, and so had Abby and Mark. 

"And I went to the perfectly muggle University of Boston," Uncle Rob piped in.

Hearing the story, Hermione understood that Mark's reaction had been, to some extent, caused by his family's loyalty to the school, as well as his fondness of dramatics.

With the help of magic, cleaning up after dinner was much faster than usual and Hermione didn't have to keep Abby waiting for her to get to bed. Her uncle and aunt slept in the guest bedroom, Mark took the couch downstairs, and Abby, as she had done countless timed before, slept with Hermione. 

"You know," Hermione said, "you can always transfigure something into a bed instead of being stuck in here with me." Abby held her hand to her chest and gasped loudly. It seemed that a fondness of dramatics was in the family. 

"Are you saying you don't want to sleep with me? Or implying that I don't want to sleep with you? You know, I'm gonna sleep here just to spite you now. Move over." Giggles filled the room as Abby made a show of getting into the bed and spread her limbs over Hermione. 

"You have no idea how happy I am that I'm not the only witch in this family," Hermione said. Abby shifted to lay on her side and look at her. "It's been difficult, Abby." 

"I know. It must be lonely. I also heard about all that happened at Hogwarts last year." Hermione sighed and looked away at that. "Just know that if you need me to take you away from all of it, I will. I know that you think you're grown up, hell, I used to feel the same at your age. But now that I'm older, I'm realizing how wrong I was and how young I still am. Just let me know if you need to get away from it, because I know it can't be easy to be around. From what I understand, Ilvermorny has considerably less drama." Hermione just nodded, not looking at Abby. She couldn't know how scared she was. She felt a warm body against her back and arms hugging her. She returned the affection with a pat to Abby's hand. Funnily enough, Abby didn't let go an Hermione spent the night cuddling with her favorite cousin.


	2. Chapter 2

For the first time in a long time, Grimmauld Place was bursting with sounds that were not Cruciatus-induced screams or fearful sobs; instead, the clatters of Molly's pots and silverware resonated throughout the house, followed with the constant chatter of Remus and Arthur and the occasional explosion, courtesy of the twins. Sometimes, he could hear Ron and Ginny arguing, but compared to everyone else, they made the least noise. Until Hermione arrived, that is. The sounds were only amplified by the arrival of Harry and the constants traffic from the other Order Members. And Sirius... well, he was content watching from afar. In all reality, he was just happy that he was no longer in a cold, empty cell. He'd talked to Harry and his friends, as well as the adults in the house, but he felt he needed some time to observe before he fully immersed himself. After all, the last time he was part of society, he was still a teenager.

Now, sitting at the dinner table, he listened carefully as holiday plans were discussed. He let them know that, obviously, Harry would be coming to stay with him for Christmas, and the Weasleys and Hermione were always welcome. 

"Actually, I will have to decline your offer, Mr. Black. My parents and I are visiting our family in America this Christmas," Hermione said. "Thank you for offering."

"Oh, a trip across the sea, Hermione! And, will you be taking one of those aeropleenes?" Arthur asked before Sirius could reply. 

"No, sir. We're actually using a Portkey." At that, everyone turned to look at her in shock. "It turns out that I have extended magical family. My uncle married a witch. I just found out a few weeks ago!" At that, the dining room became a mess of voices. It soon became clear that the girl was overwhelmed by the questions and Molly had to intervene. 

"Settle down, please! She'll tell us all, give her some space to think." She turned a kind gaze to Hermione. "Go on, dear."

"Well, I have two cousins, Abigail and Mark, and they are wizards. Apparently, their family line goes back to Abigail Williams from the Salem Witch Trials. They've all attended Ilvermorny and were a little disappointed that I wasn't."

"Why, that's wonderful! I bet they were very excited to have another witch among them!" Sounds of agreement resonated through the room. 

"Will we get a chance to meet them? I'd love to learn more about Ilvermorny and America. Do you think they know the proper use of a rubber duck?" Arthur asked.

"The oldest cousin, Abigail, is coming to see me off at King's Cross. Perhaps you'll have a chance to ask then," Hermione replied politely. The rest of the dinner was spent talking about these curious American cousins and Ilvermorny. 

The morning of September first could not come soon enough. As nice as it was to have three months off, there was only so much the children could do out of school and without magic, and the adults wanted their peace and quiet back.

Of course, Arthur did not forget about Hermione's family. 

"Will your parents be there too, Hermione?" He asked as they were eating breakfast.

"No, sir. They don't know Abby's coming, either. It was a bit of a last minute decision and they've already said their goodbyes. Abby took them owl shopping, though, so we can keep in touch better." Arthur nodded and watched as the young girl got up and tried to fit the orange cat in his carrier. Perhaps they could use something similar with Sirius. 

Once they were all at the train station and Harry had finished talking to Sirius, Arthur looked around, hoping to spot a crown of wild curls, similar to Hermione's. Instead, the group was approached by a tall woman, tan with wavy hair cropped at her jawline and blue eyes framed by arched eyebrows. She smiled wide as Hermione ran to her. So that must be Abigail. The two girls turned to the Weasleys and Harry and Hermione introduced everyone. "Hello, Miss Williams, it is a pleasure to meet you," Arthur said as they shook hands. "The pleasure is mine. Hermione has told me so much about all of you." A few feet away, hidden behind some suitcases, sat a black dog, his eyes trained on the newcomer.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So this is a bit of a slow chapter but it's here to kind of answer some of the questions raised about Abigail. We're going places, just bear with me.

Abigail ended up getting home much later than she intended, but with a plate of cookies to make up for it. Letting out a sigh, she threw the long-distance portkey on counter by her keys and walked to her kitchen to find a place for the cookies. After she had slowly placed each morsel on an ornamental platter, she left to her bedroom to change out of her restricting day clothes. Draped over a chair, she found her old Ilvermorny sweatshirt. On the back was the school logo, with the four-leafed clover and House figures, while embroidered on the front was her gold mascot.

Indulging herself in a trip down memory lane, Abigail took the shirt in her hands and sat on the chair. She remembered her first day at the school. She'd walked into the school knowing very little about the Houses: the Horned Serpent the mind, the Wampus the body, the Pukwudgie the heart, and the Thunderbird the soul. Unlike the English, Americans did not consider one's House to be the decisive factor of who they are. In fact, most children walked into the school not knowing much about what the Houses represented other than the basic and dramatic.

She remembered her little legs carrying her to the Gordian Knot carved into the floor when her name was called (she also remembered the gasps from the students and teachers alike- Abigail Williams I was a controversial figure to the American wizarding community). She had never as small as she did while she waited for a sign from the figures on the floor.

However, the bombardment of her senses was burned into her mind as she saw the gem on the Serpent's head glow as the Wampus roared, the Thunderbird flapped its wings, and the Pukwudgie raised its arrow. For a moment, all was silent. Then the older students, watching over the round balcony, started cheering. All four wanted her. It was now up to Abigail to pick.

Taking a deep breathe, Abby pulled the shirt over her head and walked to her closet in a haze. It was never good when her old anxieties surfaced. Up until the sorting, she had wanted to be with the Horned Serpent. But standing on the knot, she realized her mind was not the one making her decision. She slowly turned and looked carefully at each figure. The Wampus looked just as aggressive as the Serpent and she could see them fighting for dominance. Next, the Pukwudgie, her second choice. She knew it preferred Healers, and she had no trouble with helping others, but the more she looked at it, the more she could she it joining the fight, perhaps to heal, perhaps to establish humanoid dominance over beasts.

And so she turned to the great bird.

At the time, she'd found the Thunderbird annoying almost in its resemblance to the overused Eagle. She almost turned away from it. But then it beat its great wings once more, and she was mesmerized. _Thunderbird for the soul. _

Abby knew from her weekly visits to church with her dad that the soul was an important thing. It held one's sins and good deeds. It held the weight of actions. And in the great bird, staring at her from the floor, she saw the lightness of a good soul and weight of important actions. In the war that she imagined, she saw the Thunderbird flying over the rest, gliding through the cloud. It could snatch each of the beings below it and decide the winner of the battle, or it could raise a storm and end the war for good. 

With a shaky step, Abby walked towards the moving carving on the floor. She distantly remembered a poem about a caged bird. She sensed none of that here. 

She could barely remember walking out into the hall where she would get her wand. While the law restricting wand ownership until one attended Ilvermorny was no longer in effect, many parents preferred to let their children wave a wand for the first time at school. She got many strange looks as she walked towards a man with disheveled white hair and thick, round glasses.   
  
“Thunderbird, eh? Gonna be quite the adventurer, won’t you, Miss Williams?” He spoke to her while looking through what must have been thousands of boxes on the walls.

“Pardon?” 

“Good set of manners, too. You’ll be getting away with a lotta trouble with a pretty little curtesy,” he replied, not yet looking at her. “And Thunderbird is well known for raising adventurers. Cousin of the Phoenix, she is. Good ol’ Abby Williams was in Thunderbird too.” 

“No, no, you must be mistaken. I’m not looking for trouble. I just want to study and learn. Nothing more.” She began panicking a little. Had she made a mistake?

”Huh. So whatcha gonna do with that big pair of wings you got now? Keep ‘em tucked?” He finally turned to her and looked at her with piercing black eyes above his glasses. She looked back, first anxious then determined. He had no right to question her choices. “Try this one.”   
  
His voice snapped her out of her thoughts and she noticed he was holding a white wand out to her. She gently placed her fingers on it, and just as she was about to lift it, he snatched it away and turned back to the boxes. “No no. This is all wrong. No aspen for you.” He suddenly looked at her over his shoulder. “Unless you’re planning to start a revolution?”   
  
Abby shook her head.

”You know despite this whole conversation you and I had about birds, I don’t like Phoenix feather on you. Gonna have to stick to dragon heartstring,” he continued as he turned back to the wall. Millions of questions ran through her head, but Abby decided not to voice them. Her parents had taught her that asking questions when they don’t belong is rude.   
  
“Sir?” He snapped his head back at her. “What is your name?” The old man took his glasses off and looked at her a little longer. He then made up his mind and nodded.   
  
“Francis Gerald Rivers St.Germain The First.” Maybe she shouldn’t have asked. “But you may call me Mr. Rivers.” That she could handle.

She out her little hand out and said “Nice to meet you, Mr. Rivers.” He gave her a little smile and clasped her little hand in his large one.   
  
“Nice to meet you again, Ms. Williams.” She just smiled, unsure what to make of his response. “Now, back to business. It’s down to two: beech and cherry. So, Ms. Williams, tell me this. Are you wise beyond your years?” 

“No, sir.”   
“That means yes, ma’am. Hold on to this one.” He handed her a light colored wand and Abby gave it a little wave. Some small sparks left the tip. “Alright, now this one.”   
  


She carefully picked up the red tinted wand and immediately felt a rush to her arm. With a little wave, ribbons of light were floating about.   
  
“Interesting. Cherry it is. We don’t get a lot of those in America. Lemme try a different length, maybe it’ll work better.” He plucked the wand from her hands and brought out five boxes. “Now I remember your mom. Tiny woman. But I heard your dad is tall.” She nodded. “And you got a little brother, right.” Another nod. “I wager you’ll be a y’all woman too, or at least you’ll want to wear heels. Didn’t like all those big kids looking down at you during the Sorting, eh?” One more nod. Her neck was starting to hurt. 

Mr. Rivers looked back and forth from her and the boxes. He put his glasses on and then took them back off a few times. “It’s gonna feel weird now ‘cause you’re so little, but I think you’ll grow into it.” With that, he took out one of the longest wands and carefully placed it in her open hands. “Yeah, that’ll do. Now give me a moment to look in my book and we’ll be done. Ah, you’re the last one here. Great! We can take some time to get off task.” He bummed as he flipped through the pages of a large, yellow book. “Aha! Here!”   
  


Mr. Rivers turned the book towards Abby and gave her a quill. “Just sigh your name right there, under your mother’s.” Her mom’s name was so illegible she could barely make it out; Rebecca Williams. Abby took her quill and wrote in the neat, looped handwriting had taught her; Abigail Williams. “Add to I’s there, too, so it’s clear you’re a separate person.” Abigail Williams II.   
  


”Is her name on here, too?” Abby couldn’t help but ask. 

“Yes, ma’am! She’s one of the first few. Too bad she left so soon after graduation. Would’ve made a wonderful teacher. Ah, here she is! And look, her wand was cherry too, though a bit shorter than yours. I heard she broke hers when she fell in love with John Proctor. Wanted to renounce her “unnatural ways”, she said. Too bad it’s what got her killed.”   
  


“Excuse me for asking, but how do you know so much about her?”

”Oh I know a bunch about everyone. Been here since 1650s. I stayed on as a wandmaker. You’ll probably meet my little boy. Francis the Fourteenth. Likes to go by Frankie.” Abby took a moment to wrap her head around the information. 

“Did you just say you’re three hundred years old?”  
“Yes, ma’am. Got hit by a nasty curse back in ‘97 and stayed alive ever since then.” Abby wasn’t sure which century ‘97 was in but she didn’t think it was polite to ask. “Alright, then, get to your dorm. This wand stuff takes a while so there’s probably some student council kids hanging around the hallways to help you out.” 

After exchanging their “goodnights”, Abby went out to the hallway where there was indeed a student waiting. He was wearing the blue robes with cranberry red trim, and after a quick smile, he took her to the Thunderbird dorms. She barely had time to say goodnight before he left. 

She’d been pleasantly surprised when Mr. River’s prediction had proved itself true. She had quite the souls for adventure and was constantly traveling. Her favorite place was Japan, where she found that her wand and calm demeanor were not as strange as in the US. Her hosts had even helped her carve traditional ancient Japanese runes for luck, strength and health on her wand. Now, as she sat on her bed looking at the Thunderbird on her shirt, after having spent her day talking to witches and wizards of a nationality she had not encouraged there’s before, she wondered what she could do. Her cousin was stuck in a war that targeted her specifically, and was being drafted by the Light and haunted by the Dark, while neither side seemed to realize that these are children because they are both too enthralled by their own notions of heroism to realize what was truly happening. Letting out another sigh, one of many that day, it seemed, Abigail Williams II got up from her bed and penned two letters. One was to MACUSA President Hannah Abbott, describing her plan and asking for a few weeks leave from her post as Director of Magical and Non Magical Integration. The other one was to Albus Dumbledore. The man her history textbooks had vaguely described from Grindelwald's war and who, until now, was responsible for Hermione’s safety and education in the magical world. It was time she joined the Order of the Phoenix (she vaguely wondered if the Thunderbird carving back at Ilvermorny felt jealous).


End file.
